


The Deadweight

by aravenwood



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Gen, Poor Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 21:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14089812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: Prompto hated blood. But now it was everywhere - on his hands and his face and his clothes - and it wasn't even his.Prompto makes his first kill.





	The Deadweight

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working very slowly on a different fic, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. It's happier than the last one, at least...which isn't saying much I'll be honest... 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Prompto hated blood. He couldn’t stand to look at it, even if it was his own and coming from the tiniest papercut in the world. Anything that was meant to be inside the body which appeared outside made him feel shaky and sick. Even the thought had him breathing steadily from the nose to hold the nausea at bay.

But now it was everywhere – on his hands and his face and his clothes – and it wasn’t even his.

Gladio had called for some field training, arguing with him that it wasn’t enough to be able to hit dummies, that they had to know he could kill for his prince if it came to it. Prompto’s word wasn’t enough. They needed proof. So he was shoved into the passenger seat of Gladio’s car, Ignis promising to call the school and explain his absence – hopefully he wouldn’t fully explain, Prompto didn’t want anyone knowing what he would have to do.

He’d sat silently in the car, twisting his hands in his lap and trying not to imagine the events of the next several hours. Gladio hadn’t given him any details, just told him to bring a gun, which he’d done, and to have a big breakfast, which he’d tried to do and failed when his nerves brought him to his knees in front of the toilet bowl. He didn’t tell Gladio this.

The car had pulled to a stop a few miles outside the city, where all they could see was trees and grass and, in the far distance, a little pool. Prompto had never been outside the city, he didn’t realise the world could be this barren and silent. It was both incredibly unnerving and tremendously beautiful. He’d fumbled for his camera and taken several shots before Gladio could scold him and demand that he focus like he always did when Prompto had his camera. Today though, the warning hadn’t come. The bigger man had leaned against the car, arms folded and watching him with an unreadable expression. It was that which made Prompto stop. Teeth chewing on his lip, he’d mumbled an apology and tucked his camera away, then signalled for Gladio to lead the way.

The other man had led him through the trees until they came across a pack of sabertusks. Prompto hadn’t known what they were at first, they’d just been nameless horrible monsters who laid eyes on them and started to growl. But then Gladio had hissed in the name in his ear and added, “you just aim and shoot, it’s as easy as that. Don’t think about it too much,” like it was that easy.

But Prompto had known that his position as a member of the Crownsguard was at stake here, and if he couldn’t even kill some sabertusks then what use would he be if his King was in danger? If all he could do was huddle behind his gun and let everyone else fight around him while he was frozen in indecision? So he’d raised his gun and fired. Missed the first time, which angered the sabertusks to come charging at them with their snapping jaws and deathly claws. Gladio had no weapon out, was just standing there waiting for Prompto to do what he had to.

When he fired again, the bullet sliced across the back of one of the sabertusks and it fell, not dead but dazed. The others just leaped right over it and kept their approach, not even flinching at what had become of their packmate. But all Prompto could hear was the injured one’s snarls weakening as it bled out and he couldn’t take it. He aimed between two of the charging sabertusks for this one, unable to deal with those noises anymore. His next shot was a killing one.

In his distracted state, he hadn’t noticed how close the others were getting until he was on his back with one on his chest, gnashing teeth held back by one arm while the other, still clutching his gun, was raised to protect himself from the vicious swipes of claws. His ears were ringing, he was sure he’d hit his head when he fell, his chest was too tight he couldn’t breathe he was going to die here and -.

He pressed his gun to the side of the sabertusk’s head, screaming as a claw caught him across the face, and fired. Blood splattered over him and suddenly the weight on his chest was heavier, deadweight.

Deadweight.

Almost immediately he was panicking, gun falling to the ground as he tried desperately to escape from under the dead sabertusk. Its blood was soaking him, all over his face and neck and hands and it made his grip slippery and weak. Nonono get it off get it off get it off, he chanted and tried even to roll to the side, but the weight kept him trapped. He realised vaguely that he was screaming, begging for someone to help him between heaving gasps for air that wasn’t coming – maybe from a panic attack, maybe from the suffocating weight pressing on his lungs.

Then suddenly the weight was gone and someone was talking to him. “…shit kid, it’s gone, it’s gone just breathe,” Gladio was saying, his face appearing in Prompto’s line of sight. A quick glance to the side told Prompto that the other man had dealt with the rest of the sabertusks with ease. There was a little blood on his clothes but he didn’t seem to even notice it. Now that Prompto had seen it, though, he couldn’t look away. Eyes transfixed on the little spots of red on grey, he was only vaguely aware of being pulled into a sitting position, one arm around his shoulders to keep him upright.

“Shit Prompto, can you hear me? Talk to me kid.”  
But Prompto couldn’t find his tongue. He couldn’t speak, didn’t really want to anyway. He just wanted to be away from here forever, to have the blood gone and to forget the deadweight crushing him in its limpness. Blood, so much blood, he could feel it drying into his skin and his clothes, blood that was meant to be inside of that sabertusk keeping it alive.

Bile rose in his throat and he had just enough sense to roll away from Gladio before he started to throw up. Each heave sent shockwaves of pain up and down his aching muscles, but he couldn’t stop heaving even when all of the water he’d drank this morning was gone and there was nothing else to throw up. He was sure he only stopped a couple of minutes later because his stomach muscles were too exhausted to keep it up.

He started to sob again as Gladio picked him up and carried him silently away from the mess, never stopping until they were back at the car. There he eased Prompto sideways onto the passenger seat so his legs were hanging out the car but he could easily slump against the seat. “Let’s get some of this blood off you. I uh, I think you’re going to need some new clothes, these ones are sort of ruined,” he said, and caught Prompto’s head when he tried to look. “Nope, don’t do that, just keep looking at me. That’s it, just look at me.”

Prompto did as he was told as he sat there and allowed Gladio to rub at his face with a few wipes, scrubbing off all of the blood. He kept every touch gentle and his voice reassuring, telling Prompto how well he did and that it would only get easier. When the blond started to shiver, Gladio had his jacket off and over Prompto’s shoulders, and Prompto curled in on it and started to cry again. Gladio’s hand locked around his wrist and pulled him close, one arm around his shoulders while the other hand was buried in his hair, pressing his head into one muscular shoulder.

As the bigger man rocked him slowly back and forth like a child after a nightmare, his voice continued to say that it would get easier with time. But now, with the image of the dead sabertusk stuck in his mind, Prompto couldn’t bring himself to believe that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
